Conflict of Interest

Chris realised that if he could control his own temper while North lost his, it would be to his advantage.

‘What specifically do you mean?’

‘Like what has Ed Snyder been up to that he doesn’t want anyone to know about? Like where we can hit Bob Reid so god damn hard he’ll never recover?’

‘I’ve covered positioning—’

‘Positioning! I want facts; the low-down. All this waffle—’ he prodded the report contemptuously, ‘is utterly useless!’

Chris cocked his head to one side, before saying pointedly, ‘I beg to differ.’ His arctic tone concealed a rising tide of resentment. ‘I’ve identified fundamental weaknesses in Active Red’s distribution activity, and negative gearing at Sportex, which no one has uncovered before and which gives Starwear an unprecedented commercial advantage. As for positioning, whether you like it or not the fact is that Starwear is a brand that needs to be revitalised; freshened up. I’ve shown’, he gestured towards the report, ‘where the brand needs to go to be repositioned, and how to get it there. No one’s ever done that before.’

All the time he’d been speaking, North had fixed him with a long, disdainful stare. Now he was shaking his head. ‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ he said after Chris had finished. ‘So let me spell it out for you in words of one syllable. Your job is to dig up all the dirt on Snyder and Reid.’

‘What do you think I’ve just been talking about?’

North flicked his hand dismissively. ‘Who gives a shit if Active Red hasn’t signed up a few retail chains? What I need to know is that Snyder has been paying bribes to the Pakistani Government for production rights; or that Reid is balling his niece.’

Chris regarded North, dumbfounded. ‘I’m a strategic planner,’ he replied icily, ‘not MI5. It seems to me you need to hire yourself a private dick.’

‘Correction,’ North placed his elbows on his desk, folded his hands and scrutinised Chris furiously behind his glasses, ‘you should have hired him. We pay you a wedge of money, a very big wedge. You’re the research whiz-kid. We give you time, we give you whatever budget you need; you’re supposed to work out what needs doing.’

‘A private detective?’ Chris was incredulous.

‘Next you’re going to tell me that offends your sensibilities?” North was fiery with contempt. Chris returned his gaze coldly.

‘Fact is,’ North continued, ‘I’ve already done that job for you. After I read your … thesis, last Friday night, I got a guy, Kuczynski, on the case straight away. Gave him the briefing you should have six weeks ago. Meantime, I’m gonna have to stall Jay Strauss. He tells me you’ve already said the report would be out this week?’

Chris couldn’t deny that had been an error of judgement. Only, he hadn’t anticipated North’s reaction. He still found it hard to credit. Now North was shoving his copy of Project Silo towards him. ‘Kuczynski will be in touch with you direct. Rewrite Project Silo on the basis of what he comes up with. And don’t forget we’re running out of time.’

‘How do you know he’ll come up with anything at all?’ Chris didn’t even try to conceal his scorn.

‘I’ve used him before. He’s expensive,’ North eyeballed Chris significantly, ‘but at least he does the business.’

•••

Chris returned to his office, closing the door firmly behind him. Never in his professional life had he been subjected to such brazen arrogance, and as he returned to his desk, the phrases played back – crock of shit… reads like some academic treatise … all this waffle is utterly useless. If North thought he was going to rewrite Project Silo on the basis of what some private dick had to say, he had another think coming. Who the hell did he think he was? Mike Cullen’s reaction to his report, Chris was certain, would be a very different matter indeed.

He’d always known that North was out of sync with the rest of the agency. This latest contretemps showed just how far out of sync he was. Worst of all for Chris, if using private dicks was North’s modus operandi, perhaps some of the accusations Judith had made last Saturday night weren’t so far-fetched after all. Even though two days had gone by, the shock of what she’d told him still hadn’t receded. Her version of reality was just so completely at odds with what he believed that it had been hard to take in. If it had been anyone except Judith, he would have dismissed all she’d said as some lurid, journalistic fantasy. But it was Judith. And he knew her well enough to realise this wasn’t a game.

North had finally shown his true colours, decided Chris. His demands weren’t just perverse – they also triggered a memory of the night he’d met Jacob Strauss. What had disturbed Chris about Strauss, he recalled now, was the same obsessiveness about his business rivals. Corporate competition was reduced to crude, underhand battles for personal power. It was a mentality utterly divorced from how the rest of Lombard conducted its business. All of which meant that Chris had some homework to do. And fast.

He needed to check out some of the accusations Judith had made last Saturday night. He already knew exactly what he was going to do about it.

11

Judith didn’t pay any attention to the police car when she first noticed it. Double parked and with blue lights flashing, it blocked a whole lane of Finborough Road, reducing the bumper-to-bumper eight p.m. traffic to walking speed. On her way home from Earl’s Court Underground, the Tuesday following Bernie’s party, she realised as she got closer that the police car was parked directly outside the front door of number 174. She climbed the short flight of steps up from the road, and found a police constable standing at the open door.

‘Evening, madam?’ he queried.

‘I live here,’ she explained, ‘top floor.’

He retrieved a notepad from his pocket and glanced down a list of names. ‘And you are?’

‘Judith Laing.’

‘Very good.’ He opened the door for her.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked, hurrying towards the stairs.